


What more than usual light?

by Zooey_Glass



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-26
Updated: 2008-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooey_Glass/pseuds/Zooey_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe can’t put her finger on why he bothers her first off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What more than usual light?

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the lovely Parenthetical. The title comes from Ben Jonson’s poem Hymenæi.
> 
>  
> 
> **Chinese glossary**
> 
> • níu – cow
> 
> • Ai ya - damn
> 
> • Xuán Wǔ – black tortoise / black warrior. The black tortoise is one of the four major Chinese constellations. It is usually represented as a tortoise or a snake and translated into English as ‘black tortoise’, but Xuán Wǔ literally means ‘black warrior’. At least [according to Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Tortoise_%28Chinese_constellation%29).

‘So you’ll take the job then?’

‘Might do, might do.’

Zoe can’t put her finger on why he bothers her first off. Maybe it’s the casualness of his response; the way he bounces in the chair like he’s weighing up whether their little boat is worth his time. Thinking about his puppyish enthusiasm for the possibilities he can squeeze out of the ship, she knows she’s being unfair, knows that he has it in him to love the old junk the way Mal already loves it, but she can’t shake the dislike. He’s too light and easy, gorramit, with his shirt loud enough to hurt the eyes and his ridiculous moustache. He jars on her the way the whole world jarred on her, those first weeks and months out of the filth and horror of Serenity Valley.

She doesn’t stop to consider why Washburne bothers her like this when she can live with Bester, loud and bawdy and about a million miles away from understanding anything that went on in the war. Still, Mal’s set on having him as pilot, and though she’s ready enough to argue with the Captain, she knows she’ll abide with his decision once it’s made. That’s a habit she ain’t never going to shake.

* * * * * * * *

They’ve been three weeks out in the black, cruising while Mal sends waves to world upon world, trying to call up old acquaintances who might give them some work. Not that there’re many of them: those of them that limped out of Serenity Valley at the end are mostly in no position to be handing out favours, and famine and sickness took care of most of Mal’s family while he was gone. She doesn’t know whether he blames the Alliance or himself more for that; it ain’t in his nature to be forgiving, either way. Zoe tries not to think of her own family. She’s loyal to the Captain: that’s enough.

* * * * * * * *

Wash hasn’t turned out to be as much of an annoyance as she’d thought he would be. For a talkative man, he sure seems happy enough to be alone on the bridge, out there in the black. She’s noticed him slipping off up there after dinner, when there’s no need, really, for a pilot. For all Serenity gives her the feel of an old-style sailing ship, like the ones she read about once, riding proudly on the waves where they had their own law and their own customs, she doesn’t really need someone at the helm at all times. Still, Wash goes to sit up there, more often than not, once the meal’s over and the Captain and Zoe have slipped into the shared, watchful solitude which still comes as second nature to them. She guesses she was wrong to think that he wouldn’t like or understand what it was that they got from flying, guesses that it was dumb to think a pilot wouldn’t have some kind of affinity for the black. He’d come across as someone who was more interested in the ship as a kind of toy, something which would let him show his skill. She wasn’t entirely wrong – he does treat flying like a game, the mechanical vagaries of the old ship like a challenge – but there's more to him than that.

When she sees him sitting up there on the darkened bridge, staring out at the stars scattered across the black, she thinks maybe Mal was right to take him on.

* * * * * * * *

If Zoe had doubts about Mal taking on Wash, she has none when Kaylee comes aboard, for all the girl’s all sunshine and sparkles, less in harmony with the tenor of their war-formed comradeship than Wash could ever be. No one could resent her sweet chatter, her ways of brightening up the kitchen with her flowery stencils and the conversation with her belief they’re all as nice as she is. It is Kaylee’s insistence that they should all eat together, cook proper food instead of drifting into the bridge in the evenings for packets of flavoured protein, which forces Zoe to listen properly to Wash for the first time. Although she’d been in the middle of plenty of conversations with him – man liked to talk and Bester had always been plenty ready to slack off work to listen to him – she’d never taken part. But Kaylee worries if she thinks anyone is being left out, even if they’re leaving themselves out, so Zoe tunes in to Wash’s babble, stomping his chopsticks across the table to grab a piece of the fresh beef they’d picked up whilst planetside and mock-booming ‘Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a juicy níu’. Zoe laughs and glances over at Mal. She is surprised to notice that he’s laughing too, laughter that shows right through his body in a looseness she hasn’t seen since way back when, before Serenity Valley took all his dreams. Maybe she was wrong to think that Wash’s frivolity wouldn’t sit well with the people that war had made them. Their bellies are full and the Captain’s laughing and she – well, she’s feeling pretty damn fine.

* * * * * * * *

They’re way out on the edge of the Rim, heading back from a shadier than usual job, when they run into a Reaver ship. Wandering around out there, miles from the Core, they got no right to be surprised. but that don’t lessen the shock any. Zoe’s up on the bridge, chatting with Wash about nothing much, when the blip shows up on the nav unit. Zoe knows in an instant they’re looking at trouble: ain’t nothing else likely to be flying about this far out in the black. Wash runs a read, but before he’s finished doing so the jagged-edged ship hoves into sight through the cockpit window, bearing down on them. The blood drains from Wash’s face and he freezes. For a minute Zoe thinks he’s going to stay like that, transfixed by panic, and then he’s moving again, gripping the ship’s controls and flicking the switch to the intercom.

‘Unwelcome visitors, people – we’re on the move. Hang on tight.’

Used to following orders, Zoe’s in the other seat and buckling herself in before he’s finished speaking. Not a minute too soon, either – he’s already accelerating Serenity well beyond her usual stately cruise. Still –

‘We’ll never outrun them,’ she says. ‘Predators – they’re built for speed.’

Hands steady on the joystick, Wash looks almost relaxed now, his tone not far off its usual chirpiness. ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘They’re limping. ’Sides, I got a few tricks up my sleeve.’

He turns back to the console, urging Serenity on up, soaring right over the Reaver ship. Zoe wonders where he thinks he’s soaring to – there’s nothing but barren, rocky moons out here, nowhere to run to for protection. Not that any folk would fall over themselves to help out a ship that brought Reavers down upon them anyhows. The other ship has fallen behind some – they’d taken a minute to turn themselves around once Serenity shot over their heads – but it’s rapidly gaining ground. Wash has a look of terrible joy on his face, and she suddenly realises that he’s heading them directly towards one of those barren moons, aiming the ship right at its heart.

‘He’s going to kill us all’, she thinks. And then, ‘Might be the best way’.

Zoe watches the rock growing larger ahead of them, aware of the Reaver ship creeping up on their tail. ‘Between a rock and a hard place’, she thinks wryly, and closes her eyes against the impending crash…

….which doesn’t happen. She opens her eyes again. There's no sign of the moon in the window. She looks at the nav panel and sees they’ve left it behind them. Checking for the Reaver ship, Zoe sees that it seems to have stopped. On the moon. She lets out a long, admiring breath.

‘Ai ya! You crashed ’em. That was some flying.’

Wash looks pleased and embarrassed all at once. ‘Just a little feint. Besides, like I said, they were limping. Knew they’d not enough power to pull back from that if they were on our tail. And Reavers? Not known for their clear thinking and foresightedness.’

She smiles, the fullest, reallest smile she’s ever directed at him. ‘Good job.’

‘Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to change my pants.’

Wash rises and heads for his bunk. As he passes, Zoe sees that his hands are shaking.

* * * * * * * *

Hanging out on the bridge when there’s no one but Wash free to talk turns to hanging out there because Wash is the one she wants to talk to. Zoe finds herself seeking him out more and more frequently. Oftentimes she finds the Captain up there too, sitting in the co-chair trying to look as if he really understands how to fly the ship or laughing at some ridiculous anecdote of Wash’s. Seeing Mal up there, or down in the engine room with Kaylee, Zoe starts to think that he did a good job of picking his crew. A good job for her as well as him, because she can’t deny that when she comes onto the bridge and hears the sound of laughter, joy bubbles up in her chest.

* * * * * * * *

Today she comes onto the bridge and Wash is alone. The lights are dim – he’s put Serenity onto autopilot in preparation for bed – but he’s still sitting there, gazing out of the cockpit window. It seems a curiously private moment and she turns to go before he notices her.

‘The Ancients called those stars the Pleiades, did you know?’ Zoe looks in the direction he points, but can’t really pick out which of the million dots of light are the ones he means.

‘Seven sisters – some god put them in the sky. The sailing stars. The Ancients could see them from Earth-that-Was, and now we’re seeing them from the other side.’

Zoe doesn’t know what to say, but she’s drawn forward as if a few strides will help her make more sense of a whole galaxy.

‘Didn’t figure you as having a big interest in old stories.’

‘Just stars. You might say I’ve got a little obsession there.’ Wash grins up from by her elbow, close enough that the sleeve of his shirt brushes against her, and Zoe is suddenly exhilaratingly aware of herself as a woman. She leans in to kiss him, relishing the looks of confusion, then panicky excitement, fleeting across his face before their lips meet.

* * * * * * * *

‘Bunk,’ Zoe says, and pulls him to his feet. She turns and strides off the bridge, not waiting to see if Wash will follow because she’s afraid if she hesitates they’ll end up rutting on the floor of the bridge. Gorramit if they’d survive the explosion if Mal walked in on that. Wash trails after her, looking as if his Seven Sisters had just swooped down onto the bridge and said hello.

The second they’re in her bunk she turns and grabs his hand, pulls him forward into an embrace. Their lips meet again and at first he’s uncertain, then Zoe presses her breasts against him and he’s suddenly fervent. He grinds against her and they’re kissing and sucking at one another’s tongues until they’re gasping for breath and stars are bursting behind Zoe’s eyes. Wash steps back, cupping the side of her face and taking a long look into her eyes, then his hands are on her, strong, clever pilot’s hands curling round her waist and stroking her ass. He pushes her top up and her breasts spill out, unruly against a bra that fitted when they were fresh out of the army.

Wash’s mouth closes hot around her nipple and she gasps and bucks against him, hands scrabbling at his pants and then at her own. When he slides his hand between her legs she feels her wetness coating his fingers almost at once, heat filling her loins so she’s suddenly the one amazed and helpless in his hands. She’s far from being a virgin, but it’s been a long time. She’s got Serenity Valley to thank for that, as for so many things. Now she’s gasping and moving against Wash’s hand and -

He pulls away, leaving her cold and confused.

‘Zoe, I, I don’t want this –’

‘What?’ she thinks, too confused even for anger.

He sees her face change and stumbles over his words. ‘I mean – I don’t want this to be just – just rutting. I can’t have this and then live with you on this ship the way we did before.’

His normally laughing eyes are serious and now it’s Zoe who wants to laugh, because it’s so simple.

‘So that’s how it is. Well then, we better see how well you do steering this ship home, Husband-to-be,’ she says, and squeezes his cock so that his breath catches in his throat.

Wash’s gaze is steady, and she can see he doesn’t quite believe the implications of what she’s said at first. Then he nods, sharp and certain.

‘Best pilot in the ‘verse,’ he says, with a touch of his usual levity, and he leans in once more, sliding up her body so he nestles against her breasts. His hands steady on her shoulders, he rubs his cock against her wetness, then slides in sure as he steers Serenity. Zoe gasps as he fills her and they hold still for one long moment, then they’re moving again and all her forgotten passion comes surging through her, till they’re both crying out, hands clasped so tight they’ll bruise come the morning. She clenches tight around him as she comes and he kisses her neck, then he’s flying again, raised up on his arms and calling out her name.

Afterwards, they lie curled together, sleepy and at peace. ‘My Zoe, my Xuán Wǔ,’ Wash whispers, fingers curling through her hair to stroke at the back of her neck.

Zoe thinks it might be time she had someone who wanted to name the stars.


End file.
